


Ride a Cowboy

by Jenny Lynne (jenny_lynne)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Cowboys, Gay Bar, Humor, M/M, Mid-Season 2, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 11:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12886803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenny_lynne/pseuds/Jenny%20Lynne
Summary: Sam waits until they're checked into the motel before he tells Dean their stripper case is in a cowboy-themed gay bar.





	Ride a Cowboy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nerdypastrychef](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nerdypastrychef).



> [SPN-J2-Xmas](http://spn_j2_xmas.livejournal.com) gift for [nerdypastrychef](https://nerdypastrychef.livejournal.com).
> 
> She asked for Sam and Dean undercover at a strip club. This might not be exactly what she expected, but I hope it amuses her all the same.
> 
> Thanks to glovred and oddishly for organizing the xchange. :)
> 
> Extra special thanks to Candygramme for her brilliant betaing!

Sam thinks they need a simple salt and burn case after everything that's happened with Dad dying and The Yellow-Eyed Demon getting away. It's the closest thing to a vacation he can offer Dean.

So Sam tells Dean he's found a case in New Mexico where strippers are being assaulted by an unseen force in The Empress Saloon. Dean is downright jubilant about both the strippers and the location -- cowboys! They check into the dingy Southwest-themed Happy Trails Motel on the edge of Los Renegados, a town of less than 6,000 people 30 miles west of Las Cruces. Then an amused Sam informs Dean The Empress is currently a gay bar with stripping on Tuesdays and Fridays and drag shows on Wednesdays.

Dean is understandably not amused. "I'm not doing any  _ Magic Mike _ thing. I don't even want to see that. Seriously? We couldn't've handed this off to Bobby or someone at the Roadhouse?"

Sam laughs. "What happened to 'hunting things, saving people'? Gay strippers need to be saved as much as anyone else, Dean. Besides, you don't seem to mind when I-"

"Okay, fine!" Dean cuts him off. "I'm not going undercover or anything."

The thing is they never talk about it, this thing between them. Girls come and go. A few have lasted longer or been more important than most. But in the end, it will always be them, always has been. They are soulmates -- as taboo as that might be.

"Actually, I already set up a cover for us," Sam says.

Dean glares at him.

Finally Sam laughs. "No, seriously, it's not what you're thinking. I set up a meeting with the bar's owner to discuss writing a chapter in a book on haunted bars that we're 'writing'."

Dean finally relents but he still doesn't appear happy. Sam makes it up to him once the lights are out.

\---

They introduce themselves and Sam Campbell and Dean Petty and they play up the amateur ghost hunter bit when they meet the owner, Bill McRory. In fact, they behave just like those two idiot "Hellhounds". Surprisingly it's not that hard to act that clueless. 

McRory asks them if they've ever really seen a ghost before.

Before they know it, they're telling that same ridiculous story Ed and Harry told them.

Sam solemnly says, "Once."

Dean follows up with "We were, you know, investigating this old house -- that one in White Oaks -- right, Sam?"

"Yeah, we saw a vase fall right off the table," Sam whispers loudly for effect.

"By itself." Dean widens his eyes for emphasis.

"Well, technically we didn't see it, but we  _ heard _ it."

Dean nods in somber agreement.

"But you know, something like that changes you…" Sam finishes.

By the end McRory probably thinks they're nutcases, but it actually works in their favor. He clearly wants the free advertisement a book like theirs would bring and he's willing to let them allow their imaginations to run wild.

McRory bought The Empress three years ago after the saloon had been empty for nearly 20 years. He actually had it restored to look like the original saloon, salvaging the original wood bar from where it had been left in pieces in a room upstairs. The upstairs, which had once been  rooms where "hostesses" entertained gentlemen callers, was converted into offices and dressing rooms. 

Built in the 1870s, as a saloon, it had housed a drinking establishment, a casino, and on occasion "hostesses" floor for it's first fifty years. Since then it had been a dance hall, a hotel, a very small playhouse, and a theme-restaurant, and a theme-bar.

When they ask him about the "supposed" ghost, they learn that it's not just strippers who have been attacked but couples, who have "gone off on their own". 

"Well, they didn't  _ get off _ on there own. Right? I mean they're couples so technically they were getting off togeth-" Dean cuts off his snarky remark when he spies Sam's bitch-face out of the corner of his eye. "I mean, it takes two to tango," he adds with a smirk.

Sam rolls his eyes. He's not surprised. Well, he's surprised Dean lasted as long as he did.

McRory doesn't know who the ghost might be. Apparently there's a long history of violent deaths, most during the first 50 years. Apparently, the previous owners used to have the occasional haunted tour a few times a year and he says, "They say there are several ghosts people have seen including a couple of gunslingers, a sheriff who was shot in the back while he was drinking at the bar,  a prostitute who killed herself when the man she loved didn't come back for her, and a couple of cheating card players."

He agrees to let them do a paranormal investigation Sunday night when the bar is closed. They let him assume it's a kind of  _ Ghost Hunters _ investigation with them running around in the dark wearing night vision goggles and asking empty rooms questions with their little recorders and taking pictures with their digital cameras. Basically pretending to be Ed and Harry.

\---

They hit the local library to do some research. Naturally, Dean is slouched asleep in his chair next to Sam within 30 minutes. Sam is used to this by now. He knows Dean's gotten so used to Sam's dedication that he slacks off when Sam's around to do the dirty work. Again, he's not surprised, though he'd hoped Dean would last a whole hour. Dean better make it up to him creatively later.

The problem with The Empress is it has a sordid history, and not all of it was reported in the papers. Some of it was recorded by town historians as stories passed down from person to person. Sam can't be sure all of it or any of it is true or accurate.

Apparently there were a number of disputes that were settled with gunfire, a lynching, two stabbings, a few heart attacks by those entertained by some of the "hostesses". Plus there were stories that matched up with those McRory told them. Some of the papers didn't even identify the victims. 

Sam was also a little worried they might not be able to find the grave of whoever the ghost might be. Some of those cemeteries were so old the headstones were lost or the bodies had been moved for urban development. No one had respect for the dead anymore and that caused a whole host of nasty problems-like ghosts no longer at rest.

\---

They spend Friday night at the bar. Dean spends most of his time actually at the bar with a beer in his hand while Sam interviews a few of the strippers who'd been assaulted.

"I have absolutely no desire to see any guy's junk stuffed into a thong up close and personal," Dean had said.

"I think you protest too much." Sam just smirked and leaned his shoulder into Dean's until Dean shoved him.

"Get away from me. I'm not talking to you anymore," he growled. 

Yet, when Sam crowded him in the shower later, he didn't protest. Dean certainly didn't resist Sam on his knees and his mouth on him while he struggled to keep standing under the pelting of the water. 

So Dean pretends to flirt when he asks the bartending staff about the ghost. He gets a lot of traction when he flirts, though he's never tried it with guys before. He finds that's just as successful. 

The blond twink of a bartender tells him, "True story. A year ago, I was with this guy in the stockroom, if you know what I mean-"

Dean nods and tries not to make a face. He and Sam are one thing. He can't explain it. He's not gay, not really, just...he's into Sam. It's not about the sex, though that is awesome. Really awesome. Epically awesome. It's about the connection. With girls, it's wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am and he doesn't care if he sees them again. They're a fleeting diversion. Sam is always going to be there at the end of the day. They just gravitate to each other naturally, like magnets. But Sam is the only guy he's interested in ever seeing naked -- wrong or not -- and he certainly wasn't interested in watching other guys together. That just wasn't his thing.

So Dean tries to look interested. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"Anyway, so all of a sudden it's like someone grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him away, then threw him on the floor. I swear to God. It was so freaky."

"Then what happened?"

"What do you think? We hightailed it out of there. And he swore off men and went back to his wife. Totally put the fear of God into him."

Dean winced. "I'm sure it had nothing to do with God."

After the third time some guy pinches his ass, Dean starts telling people he's with Sam and he's the possessive type. Might as well. So many people make that assumption anyway.

\---

While Dean is entertaining himself with alcohol and assuming everyone who talks to him wants his ass, Sam talks to a few of the strippers who were attacked. He mostly finds out they were all alone when it occurred. Either getting ready for their act or changing back into their civvies afterward. A couple were there after hours helping close up the bar. They all experienced cold spots right before it happened.

One tells Sam he would have quit if he didn't need the extra money. Teaching doesn't pay enough to cover all of his bills. Now he just makes sure he's never alone and never stays after hours. 

\---

Later, back at the hotel, Dean puts on this cowboy hat he's picked up somewhere. "You liked watching all that naked man flesh, Sam?" 

Sam shrugs and lays down on his bed, propped up on his elbows. "About as much as I'm interested in any strippers."

"Let me guess, you were back there trying to convince them to go to school and get legitimate jobs."

"Nah, most of them have day jobs. This is just something they do either to supplement their income or for fun."

"For fun, huh? Like this?" Then Dean does a sexy little dance for Sam, slowly stripping off his clothes while humming a country song he'd heard at the bar, punctuating it with the only line he knows -- "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy."

Sam can't decide if he should laugh or be turned on. So he wiggles his finger at Dean and says huskily, "Come 'ere." 

Dean crawls on the bed so he's straddling Sam, wearing just his boxers, his boots and his hat.

Sam pulls him down and kisses Dean to smother a laugh. Thankfully, Dean's laughing too.

Kissing leads to touching. Touching leads to groping. Groping leads to naked Sam. Dean repays Sam for the shower surprise.

\---

Dean calls Missouri on Saturday and she gives him the name of a psychic currently in Las Vegas. 

They spend Saturday in Old Tucson a few hours away in Arizona. 

Dean fanboys over the old western movie sets and costumes and downright gushes over the shoot-out re-enactment, the stagecoach ride, and the film museum. The park has been the set for movies and television shows going back to 1939, including movies like Eastwood's "Joe Kidd", Bronson's "Death Wish", "Tombstone", "The Quick and the Dead," and even "The Three Amigos" and television shows like "Little House on the Prairie" and "Gunsmoke." 

Dean says "Awesome" more in that one day than he has in the whole rest of his life. 

Sam indulges him with an amused smile and doesn't say anything when Dean buys a big ass pewter belt buckle and eyes up a pair of cowboy boots.

\---

Olivia meets them on Sunday afternoon at the Horseshoe Diner. She rolls her eyes at Dean's excitement over Rootin' Tootin' Baked Beans, Get-a-long Hot Doggies, Tumbleweed Taters, and Boot Stompin' Barbeque.

She's a tiny little thing. No more than 5'1 and not an ounce of fat on her. She eats a steak salad like Sam does and Dean calls them out on it. After all, when are you going to get another chance to eat authentic cowboy food. Sam just snorts and tries not to look embarrassed.

They quickly learn that Missouri told her nothing. Not about the case. Not about them. She tells them that she prefers it that way. The less she knows, the less that sort of thing will influence her reading. She's more accurate when she doesn't have anyone's preconceived notions on her mind.

Her medium abilities allow her to sense what kind of haunting a place has -- residual, intelligent, poltergeist, or demonic. She can interact with the intelligent hauntings when they want to interact with this side. She doesn't deal with the other three. There's nothing to do about residuals, unfortunately, and, quite frankly, the other two scare the shit out of her. She calls experts for those.

\---

After meeting with Olivia, they talk to a previous owner. She and her husband had run the restaurant during the 50s. She tells them about a few of the weird phenomena that happened while they were there. Mostly it was harmless, the usual moving things around, cold spots, the feeling someone was watching, etc. She says that a few patrons had occasionally thought they spotted people in period garb in the mirrors but when they turned around, no one is there. They described cowboys, fancily dressed women, and once a preacher.

\--- 

Sam and Dean arrive at The Empress just after dark. Sam dumps the duffle with all the gear on the bar. Dean hefts the sawed-off onto his shoulder.

They do a walk-through with the EMF reader before Olivia arrives. Just as Sam suspected there are more than a few cold spots. Nothing attacks them or tries to contact them. It all seems benign. They know better.

Olivia arrives an hour later. Dean tells her to get ghost whispering. 

Sam huffs. "Dean," he admonishes. "Olivia, what can we do to help?"

"Just...stay back." She looks directly at Dean when she says this.

Dean steps back and gestures for her to go ahead.

Sam glares at him.

Olivia wanders through the main bar like she's in a museum.

Sam and Dean feel the temperature drop almost immediately.  

"I'm feeling...more than a few intelligent beings and a few residual, nothing malevolent…"

"Can you tell who they are?" Sam asks in that same sharing and caring one he uses for victims and witnesses.

She shakes her head slow. "There's some excitement and curiosity about why we're here." She touches a table. "There's a...pair of...ranch hands, I think they are. They're only interested in their card game. I get the feeling they've been playing a long time...before they died...They didn't die here...and not together, but they enjoyed each other's company so much, they met up again to keep playing."

She wanders toward the bar. "There's a...bartender...he was killed by a jealous husband." There's a twitch at the corner of his mouth. "And there's a lawman...he's a little disgruntled...I'm getting he was shot in the back here at the bar...whoever shot him was never caught."

"Well, I'd be angry about that too," Dean says. "I'd wanna kick some ass-"

She shakes her head, "Resentful but not dangerous. Mostly he just keeps an eye on the others these days...seems protective of them..."

"Olivia, we're looking for someone who is dangerous, dangerous enough to harm  _ people _ ," Sam says.

"Well, I'm not getting that in here. Like I said, they're mostly curious…" She stops at the bottom of the stairs. "Wow, it's really cold right here." She reaches a hand out and then steps back. "I'm getting a well-dressed lady in period garb. I wanna say her name starts with a 'B' - a 'Bell' sound at the beginning, like 'Bella' or 'Bellita'...something like that." She sucks in a breath like it's hard to breathe. "I'm feeling a pain," she puts her hand to her chest. "She had some sort of respiratory problem -- tuberculosis maybe? But she worked here for a while. She liked it." She tilted her head like she was listening and then gave a short chuckle. "She misses when this place had families?"

Sam nods, "It was a restaurant for a while."

She nods, "She liked seeing all the children." She quirks a smile. "She thinks the current times are strange. She's not sure she understands why the showgirls are men. -- Drag Queens?" she asks.

"Yeah, tell her, I don't get it either," Dean says.

Olivia chuckles, whether it's at Dean or the Bell-ghost is anyone's guest.

"Can you ask her if she knows who's attacking people here?" Sam asks, knowing he's being pushy.

Olivia closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths. When she opens them, she shakes her head. "She won't say. I get the feeling she's afraid of whoever it is...she's not the only one."

"Great, this isn't getting us anywhere," Dean huffed.

"Hang on, Olivia," Sam says. "Dean, conference?"

Dean rolls his eyes but follows Sam into a corner. "What?"

"I gotta idea…" Sam says cautiously. "It might work." He's chewing his bottom lip like he knows Dean's not going to like whatever it is.

Dean hesitates. Sam's ideas usually work out pretty well, like leading the Monster Racist Truck onto hallowed ground, forcing that Constance chic into her house. "This isn't going to involve risking my Baby in someway, is it?"

"I can guarantee your car won't be involved."

"Then what?" Dean says suspiciously.

"So, this ghost has a thing against couples making out, right?" Sam explains.

"Yeah...what you want me to go make out with Jennifer Love Hewitt over there?"

"No, Dean." Sam rolls his eyes.

"You dog,  _ you _ wanna make out with her? You go for it!" Dean slaps his brother on the arm with a dirty grin. "I'll just stand over here and pretend not to watch."

Sam makes a long-suffering sigh. "No, Dean. The ghost seems to have a problem with men making out with men…" He stares at Dean until that look of understanding crosses his face.

"Oh, no! We are not-" 

"Dean, what's the diff-"

"Not where people are-"

"It's for the job. Remember the job?"

"Well, let's get us in some one to -- that bartender, the blond one. I bet he has an exhibitionist kink and a friend!" Dean backs into the edge of the bar.

"First of all, we don't have time to call in bait, and second, since when do we use civilians as bait."

Dean shakes his head. Behind closed doors is one thing. Out in public, that's too close to admitting what they do and how wrong it is.

"Dean, it's for the case."

Dean drops his chin to his chest and tries to breath through a possible panic attack. "Okay, fine, but if this gets around, you're explaining it."

Sam nods with a lopsided smile. "Got it. I'll protect your manhood from rumors of ill repute."

"I'm not kidding, Sam. You know how hunter's talk."

Sam was trying not to laugh at this point. To stop Dean from building himself into a true panic, he grabs Dean with a hand on either side of his brother's face and kisses him. Hard and with intent.

At first Dean stands stiff, but after half a minute, he relents. He curls his fingers into the back of Sam's shirt with his free hand and fights for control of the kiss. That's the thing with them, they both like to think they're the one in control. Dean assumes since he's older, he should be, and Sam likes to prove him wrong.

Sam backs him against the bar and runs one hand down Dean's side and slides it onto one denim clad butt cheek. He pulls Dean against him so Dean can feel how turned on he is right now. There's a promise there. He'll reward Dean later for giving in now.

They almost forget about Olivia, who seems oddly quiet.

Sam feels two very cold hands grip his shoulders and yank him back. He is sent flying across the bar and against the far wall. He hits his head before he slides down to the floor.

"Sam!" Dean calls out before he feels something squeezing his throat and holding him against the bar.

"Stop! Leave them alone!" Olivia commands.

Sam braces his hand against the wall and tries to get to his knees but his head is pounding and his vision is spinning. He can almost see a flickering image of a man in black holding his brother. "Dean!"

Dean manages to pull up the sawed-off just enough to shoot at the ghost's kneecaps. He immediately drops, gasping for breath.

"Olivia?" Dean rasps out. "What we dealing with?" He climbs to his feet and has starts turning, ready to fire at anything.

Sam makes it back to his feet and makes the mistake of shaking his head. He resists the urge to empty his stomach of his Southwest Salad from lunch.

Olivia is back against the wall with her eyes closed. He hands are held out in front of her. "Abomination...Sodom and Gomorrah…" she whispers. "No! No you do not have permission!"

Suddenly Olivia's body seizes and shudders. Both boys move toward her on instinct.

She stops and then stands straight. Her eyes are glazed over with a gray film. Black goo is dripping from the corner of her eyes.

"You!" She points at Sam. Her voice is deeper, older. "'Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination!' Death is deservant of abominant fornicators!"

"I'm thinking this is the preacher, Sam," Dean says keeping the gun pointed at Olivia. He doesn't want to shoot her unless he has to. While the rock salt won't do permanent damage to her, it'll hurt like a bitch.

Sam nods slowly in reply and then wishes he hadn't. He pulls a vial of salt out of his shirt pocket. He can hear Dean calling him a Boy Scout in the back of his mind. He just needs to get close enough.

"So, padre, why don't you let sweet little Olivia go, huh?" Dean says. "It's us you want."

"Heck, if you let us all go, we'll talk to the owner about...you know...stopping all the…" Sam shrugs.

"Liar!" Olivia shouts and with a fling of her hand, Sam is slammed back against the wall.

"Sorry, 'bout this," Dean mumbles, hopes Olivia understands. He shoots. The salt rounds slam into her and she slams back into the wall. There's a wail as the ghost flickers a moment outside of her and then disperses.

Sam drops back to the floor.

"C'mon, we gotta get out of here," Dean rushes to help Olivia, but she's unconscious so he tosses Sam the gun. Sam barely catches it as he climbs to his feet.

They leave their gear inside for the moment and get Olivia outside. A little bit of smelling salts and she is cursing their names. 

"What  _ was _ that? Pissing off Casper?" she demands. "And, man, he was pissed."

"Are you okay?" Sam asks touching the back of his own head to feel what sort of damage has been done.

"No, I'm not okay. Why would I be okay? Some fanatic preacher just mind raped me." She bends over and throws up on the pavement. "God, I hate when they do that."

"That happen often?" Dean asks.

She glares at him. "It only seems to happen when hunters are around."

Sam and Dean have the sense to feel sheepish. 

"I'm sorry, Olivia. We didn't mean for you to get hurt," Sam says sincerely. "I honestly thought he'd only go after us."

"That probably would have worked if you didn't have a medium around," she says sharply. "If an angry ghost can find a way to focus their anger through, they'll use it. They don't care if the medium is neutral or not."

"We're really sorry," Dean says again. "Let me drive you somewhere you can get some rest."

She shook her head. "No," she says sharply. "I just want to be on my way."

They step back as she gathers herself and walks toward the rental car. "Tell Missouri, I said 'Hello' and you two, never call me again."

Sam thought he heard her mumble, "Fucking hunters," as she climbed into the front seat.

"How's your head?" Dean asks as she drives away.

"Been worse," Sam says.

"So...at least we know it's a padre," Dean says.

"Yeah, and I think I know who," Sam says going to the Impala and pulling out his notes. 

Dean moves to look over his shoulder and hold the flashlight.

Sam shuffles through his papers until he finds the right one. "So, there's this story about this David Koresh-type preacher who ran a commune in the hills. He and some of his followers would occasionally come down to trade for supplies. While they were in town, he'd take the opportunity to preach 'the good word' and he didn't care where he did it. He got himself thrown out of the Saloon a number of times."

"So he stuck around to convert the sinners?" Dean asks,

Sam shrugs. "Maybe, but it's more than likely he's there because he was killed there. I can't be sure but there was an article in one of the papers about this guy being shot by an angry man whose daughter had abandoned her own daughter to go to the commune."

"So, what? Harems are okay but man-on-man action is a sin worth a fiery death?"

"Polygamy is an accepted practice in the Bible, Dean. Utah's not that far away," Sam points out.

"Fine, whatever. Where's he buried? Let's gank his ass."

Sam flips through his notes. "I'm gonna guess he's buried up at the commune."

"It's still there?"

"You should know better than anyone, all of these states are smattered with ghost towns...Says here it's hard to get there. We're gonna have to take ATVs part of the way."

\---

They decide to wait until morning to retrieve their gear from the bar. They're not afraid, they just don't want to deal with it if they don't have to while Sam's got a concussion, which they're both sure he does. 

Dean takes care of his brother, makes sure he doesn't fall asleep for too long at a time. Dean at least makes the frustration of being woken up again and again, worth it, waking Sam up in creatively pleasurable ways each time. Though some of that may be more for him than Sam.

\---

The next morning, they retrieve their gear from The Empress and while Sam gets an earful from Missouri about Olivia, Dean rents a couple of ATVs and a trailer to haul them as close as they can get to the ghost commune. According to Sam, there are no roads leading to it anymore. In fact, even back then, it was just a trail for horses and wagons.

This, of course, leaves Dean wide open to make an obvious remark about how it had been a "Wagon Trail."

Sam ignores him.

They pullover where the road becomes undrivable and unload the ATVs. It's almost lunch by then, so they take a break for some gas station sandwiches, the kind that come in those triangular plastic containers and have iffy expiration dates. They don't take their time because they can feel how close the end of the case is and they're at that point where they're ready for it to be over.

They make it to Penance Hill mid-afternoon. The place is barely a few wind-worn and rotting buildings, some just a wall or two. The land is unusually overgrown with green and it's hard to tell where the roads in the town once were. It's been empty for well over 100 years and nature has reasserted itself aggressively.

It takes a while to find the small cemetery. Less than 30 gravemarkers, many for children speak both of how hard life had been here in that time and how short the worshipers had stayed.

It's not hard to find the one gravemarker placed with special significance. It's taller than the others and hand carved into stone, meant to last forever. The words are slightly worn away by weather and time, but "Brother Enos Butterwood" was still legible.

Sam sighs as they pick up the shovels. "Are we sure there isn't another way?"

Dean quirks an eyebrow at him. "I know you're not feeling squeamish here, Sammy. This guy's been toast for 150 years."

"No...it's just ganking a man of God seems...a little like...blasphemy, I guess for lack of a better word."

Dean snorts. "We do all sorts of things that would probably be considered blasphemy by any number of churches-"

Sam opens his mouth to comment.

"But we do it for the greater good so those ignorant S.O.B.'s can sleep at night and have someone to blame."

Sam nodded. "Okay."

They get to digging and it's almost evening before they're cracking open the coffin. Sam is actually relieved there's a body. He had been afraid they'd be up shit creek without a paddle. No way to stop the anti-gay preacher.

The wind picks up the second the lid of the pine box is opened. Sam is nearly blown off his feet by the force of it. Sam sees a branch fly through the air toward his brother as he climbs out of the dug grave. "Dean!" he warns.

Dean feels the branch hit him from behind. He nearly falls back into the hole, but Sam grabs him by the arm to steady him. Sam stumbles back as he heaves his brother up the rest of they way and is off balanced by Dean's weight for the ghost to push him further back.

"Sam!" Dean calls, reaching for his brother.

Sam shakes his head. "Just do it!"

Sam grabs the iron bar he'd hooked into his belt and swung as the flickering image of the angry preacher reaches for his throat.

Dean dumps salt all over the grave.

The Preacher turns his attention to Dean now that he is the biggest threat. He knocks Dean over with a shove and to Dean's consternation blows his hat a few feet away.

"Bastard!" Dean yells.

Sam takes the opportunity to grab the gas can and splash it's contents on the skeleton. The ghost tries to push him into the grave, but Sam holds his ground.

Dean uses the ghosts distraction to strike the flame on his lighter and toss it in to the grave.

As soon as the skeleton catches fire, the ghost of the preacher comes into focus and then like an image on a film cell, began to burn around the edges, quickly devouring the inside.

Sam walks over and gives Dean a hand up. Once he's on his feet, he stalks over to his hat. "Bastard better not have ruined my hat."

"And if he did?" Sam smirks.

"I'll summon him back from Hell and kick his ass right back," Dean grumbles as he brushes the dust and grass off his hat.

Sam shakes his head and resists an eyeroll. "Yeah, okay, Quick Draw."

They quickly fill in the grave and make their way back to town. Dean cheerfully sings "Shoulda Been a Cowboy" all the way.  

\---

Back in town, Sam tells McRory they have everything they need for their book, but if he hears about any more events, let them know because they're always interested in follow up stories.

That plus the return of the ATVs leaves them with plenty of time on their hands.

Sam has little trouble convincing Dean to stick around a few days to "take some time off". Dean indulges in all the local attractions and a few private attractions in the hotel. However, when they run out of quarters for the bed's Magic Fingers, Dean's ready to move on.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction, written for pleasure not for monetary compensation. I do not own Supernatural or its universe. I just played in it a little.
> 
> All of the locations except Las Cruces and Old Tuscon are fictional. (Old Tuscon is a very neat place to visit. I highly recommend it.)


End file.
